Sorry for the long wait. I haven't edited this chapter yet, but I figured that, considering how long since I've updated, I shouldn't push off any more days.

Also, I don't advocate for smoking. There are more reasons that a person might smoke than 'looking cool.'

Harry stared into the bowl of porridge as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. He did not touch it, even as the warmth was visibly dissipating into the air. He chewed his lip viciously and stole a quick glance at Tom.

The robot's posture was drawn back, features unreadable and back ramrod straight. A chilling aura was coming from him. He had been like that ever since Draco left. Describing the recent atmosphere between them as freezing would be an understatement.

Even though Harry knows that they should talk, he's been avoiding confrontation for nearly a week now.

He gripped his spoon tightly, his knuckles white, and ate a bit of the cool porridge. All the while, he was watching Tom out of the corner of his eye as he did so.

Tom's red, gleaming eyes shifted onto him, and he quickly looked away.

"Harry," he called.

Harry pretended not to have not heard him. He stared at his porridge some more, scooping up some of it and then letting it fall back into the bowl with a plop. He mentally snorted. Who was he kidding? He was only going to make the situation worse if he continued to ignore the giant elephant in the room.

He finally looked up at him. "Yes?'

"Were you really going to give me to someone else?" he asked, voice carefully level.

"I. . ." he hedged, "Well, yes," he started. Tom's eyes all of a sudden took on a menacing light. "But only because I can't afford to take care of another robot," he rushed out.

"Yes, I am aware of your," he glanced around the kitchen, "unfortunate living conditions."

Oh put a sock in it, Tom, he thought viciously.

"If you're so aware then you should understand my reasoning. It's not like you would be abandoned. You would just. . .have a new caretaker."

"Don't make me sound like a pet," he warned.

"You know that's not what I think of you," he said, a tad bit frustrated.

Tom just hummed, not bothering with a verbal reply. He stood up and left the room.

Never thought a robot could be such a wanker , he thought snidely, before deflating and looking down again at his porridge.

He heaved a great sigh at his porridge, his mind wandering. I should probably restock the pantry , he mused, staring at the unseasoned, mushy grains. At least enough to make this more palatable.

He gave a sigh again, giving up on finishing his food. He's lived practically all his life on bland, cheap food, but even he had his limits. Having only one kind of food for breakfast for three years straight would make you tired of even the most expensive and delicious food, never mind plain, watery porridge.

Disposing of his food, Harry made his way back into the workshop. He had a small side project he was working on that he planned on finishing by the end of the week. The parts he had scavenged for in the junkyard wasn't only for the purpose of selling and repairing his robots.

Sitting down on his stool, he picked up his current work. A small, golden ball shone under the dim workshop light, the surface raised with a simplistic design.

Back in Hogwarts, he loved to play Quidditch. Call him a sentimental fool, but he really missed playing the game, and he wanted something to remind him of it. Unfortunately, most of the knowledge of the machines in Hogwarts had been destroyed during the Great Destruction, the flying broom and golden snitch being amongst them.

However, he believes he's finally figured out a way to recreate the golden snitch. He's unsure if it would be exactly the same as before, but something was better than nothing. And, if he can successfully recreate the golden snitch, that means he's figured out a good portion of the technology needed to make the bludger and flying broom.

In the beginning, he had been really lost on how to design the flying mechanics of the snitch. But after finding a few things in the junkyard, he believes that he finally had the right parts to make it fly.

Carefully assembling two small wings to the ball, he held it up to the light, inspecting it for any. Feeling that it looked ready for testing, he pressed the minuscule button on the bottom of the snitch and let go.

It immediately started to flutter about, the wings a mere blur of motion. He could feel a smile start to form on his face as he was pulled back into memories of his first time playing Quidditch.

The snitch zoomed around his office in a rather curious manner, almost indiscernible to the human eye, before smashing into the ceiling light. The snitch hovered in the air pathetically, it's wing bent and crooked, before dropping to the ground.

All joy slipped off Harry's face as if it had never been there in the first place. "Dammit!" he shouted, picking up the broken snitch. "I had everything right, so why?" His eyes scoured over the design blueprints, looking for where things went wrong. Unable to see the problem, he tossed the blueprints on the ground in his frustration and stormed out of the workshop.

Practically stomping his way into the bathroom, he roughly shucked off his clothes and turned on the shower, making sure the water was as cold as possible. He didn't understand. Everything was right, and yet. . .

If there was one thing in the world that he prided himself over, it was his skills in robot making. He can't draw worth a damn, he's pretty sure he's tone deaf, and he doesn't even want to think about his skills in maths and biology. But robot making just makes sense to him. It feels natural, and it's what he's good at. So when he gets something wrong with it, when he just can't understand something, it frustrates him to no end.

A thousands maybes circulated through his head, taunting him. Maybe this is my limit, he thought. Maybe this is as far as my skills can go. Maybe I'm just not meant to succeed in this.

Giving a weary sigh, he turned off the shower, unable to take the freezing cold any longer. Drying himself off, he looked at his reflected self through the cracked, charcoal-dusted mirror. He absentmindedly ran his hand over the indentations of of his ribs, watching his distorted clone do the same.

His eyes slid upwards to look at his own face.

A contemplating light entered the clone's eyes, and the shadows under their eyes seemed to grow in size and darkness. He stared at the reflection, some inkling of a thought just barely out of reach, before shaking his head furiously.

"Stupid," he muttered. He turned away from himself. "Truly truly stupid."

He walked into the bedroom, tossing his towel on one of the bedposts. Pulling on a random pair of clothes, he went to his desk and started rummaging through the top drawer, his undried hair dripping on the floor.

He pulled out a fag1 and placed it in his mouth. After lighting it, he sucked it hard, taking in more smoke than one should, savouring the way it burnt at his throat. His shoulders sagged, the tension in his body seeping away instantly.

Making his way back into the workshop, he stiffened abruptly and stopped in his tracks. Tom was standing in front of him, the blueprints in one hand and the snitch in the other. He had a rather focused look on his face.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, unable to feel protective of his work, failed or not.

"I'm just looking," Tom replied, not removing his eyes from the blueprint. "That's really not good for you," he continued, still not looking at him.

"What-"

"Smoking. I'm sure that you're quite aware, but I feel like I should remind you anyway."

Harry took in an especially deep drag at that, and then blew a cloud of smoke Tom's way. "Don't worry, this is a rare occasion. I don't plan on making a habit of it anytime soon, but. . ." Sometimes it just helps, he finished in his thoughts.

"Anyway," he said, switching topics, "I'd still like to know why you're in my workshop, touching my things. I don't remember ever saying you had free reign here." He gave a pointed look at Tom, who was still not looking up.

"You're missing a spatial stabiliser," he said, completely ignoring what Harry was saying.

"What?"

"I said you're missing a micro spatialiser. Everything else is correct, but there's a piece called the micro spatialiser that makes sure automata have more refined spatial awareness. It's attached to the the balance wheel inside the snitch.

It's understandable that you wouldn't have known about it. It's something that was solely used within Hogwarts with small automata such as the snitch," he explained, finally looking up at him.

"You know about how snitches were made? And you know about Hogwarts?" Harry asked. "Did your maker attend there?"

"Yes to all three of those. My maker was interested in how everything in Hogwarts worked, and made it his mission to learn as much as possible."

"Really? Would I know of him?" He could only imagine the wealth of knowledge Tom's maker would have. One only had to look as far as Tom himself to know that.

Tom frowned. "No, you wouldn't know of him. He hasn't been around for a while, now."

"Oh," he said in disappointment. "A shame. I would have loved to know your maker."

A particular, unidentifiable emotion appeared on Tom's face. "I'm sure you would have." His eyes drifted back to the broken snitch. "Back to the topic at hand, you can obtain a micro spatialiser rather simply. It's very likely that you already have the materials to make it yourself."

Harry gave Tom a narrow-eyed look. "And what is it that you want in return?"

He gave Harry a small smile. "You know me so well."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Your true nature is very easy to read."

"You'd be surprised by how many are fooled," he replied, seeming to recall a certain moment in particular.

"I'm sure you were a real charmer.

"So, tell me. What do you want?"

"I need you to retrieve something for me. Something that was very important to my maker," he in a vague manner.

"You'll have to give me more than that. What is it and where is it?" He was interested now.

"It's a diadem. Ravenclaw's diadem, to be exact. And it is hidden in Hogwarts."

"What?" Harry exclaimed. "Ravenclaw's diadem?"

Was Tom's maker a descendant of her? Considering what I know of his maker, little as it may be, I wouldn't be surprised. . .

Harry could scarcely believe his own ears. It was well known to both those who did and didn't attend Hogwarts who Rowena Ravenclaw was. As one of the founders of Hogwarts and one of the most intelligent and innovative robot makers in history, many idolised her, dark maker or not.

Harry himself has admired her for her many feats and contributions in robot making. Getting to see her diadem would be like a dream come true. However, if it was in Hogwarts. . .

"Infiltrating Hogwarts would be suicide. I'm already under enough suspicion as it is. Going to the headquarters of our current emperor of all places would pretty much be a one-way ticket to my own doom."

"It's very possible, especially with all the secret passages the school has."

"This doesn't sound like a very even trade to me. You want me to sneak into Dumbledore's domain and steal something that might not even be there anymore? Something that valuable, no way someone wouldn't take it."

"No, the diadem is still there. I know that for a fact. I'm the one who hid it there, after all. And I have faith in your capabilities."

"Faith won't keep me alive."

He sighed. "Alright, fine. How about this? You help me retrieve the six things that was important to my maker, and I'll teach you all I know about robot making. Does that sound like a deal?"

That caused Harry to give pause. The offer was tempting. "How do I know that you know anything at all besides how to make a snitch?"

A flicker of both appreciation and frustration appeared on his face. "You were a Slytherin, weren't you?"

"I was a Gryffindor, actually." Technically, he added mentally.

". . .What?" he asked, the doubt clear in his voice.

"I'm serious. But let's not get off track. How do I know I can trust you? I'm almost certain that your maker was a Slytherin, and you definitely inherited that from him."

He was quiet for a moment, clearly contemplating how to answer that question. "How about I teach you how to finish your snitch first, and then you get the diadem for me. You can trust me if I show you I trust you first."

Harry stared at Tom, a conflict warring within himself. What he just proposed went against everything that Harry knew about the robot. They may have not known each other long, be he felt like he knew Tom better than most for some odd reason. And because of that, what he just proposed felt very out of character, and he couldn't help but feel there was a hidden trap in there somewhere.

"Alright. . ." Harry said slowly, idly wondering if he was walking into his own grave.

"I knew you'd come around," he said, giving another one of his small, closed-lipped smiles that made Harry instantly regret.

"Come here," he said, pointing at the stool.

Harry sat down warily, watching for any tricks Tom might pull.

"See here?" Tom pointed at the blueprint. "See these two balance wheels here?"

Harry nodded.

"The micro spatialiser goes right in the middle of the two balance wheels, at the centre of the snitch's gravity."

"That makes sense. A component that helps the snitch's spatial awareness shouldn't disrupt the balanced weighting of the snitch. It would also need a sense of the exact size of the snitch, which wouldn't be possible if it weren't at the core."

"Exactly. Now," Tom grabbed a pencil and drew something on it, "see this? Recognise anything?"

Harry looked at the quick sketch. There were both familiar components and unfamiliar components. "I recognise the balancing wheel, the spiral torsion spring and the pins, but I don't understand this part." He pointed at the small hammer looking thing attached to the needle.

"I expected as much. That is what you call a clonker. It's there because the purpose is to not make fast rotations but rather causes fast clicking sounds within."

Harry's eyes went wide, practically sparkling with excitement at the revelation. "Of course!" he exclaimed. "The clicks cause the snitch to let out low sonar signals, which cause echos to bounce back, letting the snitch know when there are objects nearby. Brilliant!

"I can't believe I never thought of this. . .I'm a complete idiot."

"No you're not. The fact that you understood the entire theory from merely a diagram is not a small feat. No one I tried teaching this idea to understood quite as fast. Or even believed the theory at all."

Harry looked away, his cheeks feeling slightly warm. He cleared his throat. "Well, anyway. How am I to get one of these clonkers? The mini pins and spiral torsion springs are easy enough, but the clonker. . ."

"How proficient are you at welding and metalwork?"

"That's a relief. Metalwork is one of my stronger skills. It's kind of required, considering my professions. What material should it be made of?"

"Steel. There doesn't appear to be a furnace or any tools for metalwork here, however."

"Ah, that's because I do any work that involves forging at a different location. Forging is not very discreet, considering all the smoke the furnace produces."

"Where is it?"

"Uh, that's a bit complicated."

"Complicated how?"

"The forge moves around."

"Oh?"

"How do you feel about Zeppelins?"

"A flying workshop?" Harry could see he had Tom's complete interest now.

"Well, sort of. It's technically a joke shop, but it just so happens to have a fully functioning, secret workshop as well."

"And you just so happen to have access to this workshop?"

"Yes. I'm the financial backer for the shop, and I know the owners quite well."

"Are you able to visit them now?"

"Yes, but. . ." Harry hesitated for a moment. "I don't believe it would be a good idea if you came with me."

"Why is that?"

"There is a few reasons, but the main one is that I don't feel like carting your body back home."

"Why would you need to do that?"

"Fred and George, the owners, do not let robots inside. Anyone who enters the shop and are tested with an EMP device. They do not trust robots. Not after the war. Not after what they went through."

"They wouldn't make any exceptions?"

"They. . . they would probably make an exception for me. But while I am technically their benefactor, I am their friend first. I wouldn't want to do anything that would make them feel unsafe in their own home. They do live there as well, after all.'" he explained.

"I'm sure I could pass off as a human. You wouldn't even have to tell them that I'm a robot," Tom said.

"As sophisticated as your design is, I doubt you're immune to EMPs. There's no technology that would shield robots from it. And after the rebellion, it's definitely not a piece of technology that many want created, even among us dark makers.

"The Great Destruction was a tragedy that none of us wanted to happen, but none of us wanted to live under Grindelwald's rule either. Who would fight for a cause that would make you worse off than livestock?"

". . .If you insist," he said after a long pause. Harry was pretty sure that he saw a flash of annoyance in his eyes.

"Yes, I insist." Harry put out his fag1 and tossed it in the bin. "I'll be back later. Shouldn't take longer than a couple hours for something as small as a clonker." Harry stopped when he was halfway out the doorway. "Don't touch anything you shouldn't, alright?"

"Of course." Tom gave him a charming smile that sent chills through his body.

". . .At least don't break anything, yeah?"

Finding Fred and George's shop was fairly simple. As the main - and only - financial backer, and also close friend, he received fairly frequent updates from them. And because of that, he knew that they would be staying around Hogsmeade for the weekend.

A large, red Zeppelin with more glass than metal floated above Harry. Weasley's Wheezy Widgets was written on the side in gold. A long, rope ladder hung from the airship's deck.

Staring at what must have been a kilometre of ladder, he couldn't help but groan.

He began to climb the rickety ladder. A million complaints about how inconvenient it was to board Fred and George's airship outside of shop hours ran through his head. He could appreciate how difficult they made it for any intruders to enter, but when it was him trying to get on the airship. . .

When he finally made it to the deck, a tad out of breath, he made a note to himself that he should exercise more. The last time he truly exercised was when he was still in Hogwarts. Considering he just turned 26 just a few months ago, it was safe to say that he was a bit out of shape.

Taking in one last deep breath, he entered the shop.

"Fred! George!" he shouted.

Movement could be heard from the back. A few crashes and then a loud bang sounded. Suddenly, a head with a metal ear popped out from the back of the store.

"Could it-" the head started. Another identical head popped out right next to the other one, also with a metal ear as well.

"-be?" the other head finished.

The two people popped out fully from the back. The red hair, tall builds and matching Cheshire cat grins was unmistakable.

"I can-"

"-hardly-"

"-believe-"

"-my eyes."

"Our-"

"-benefactor-"

"-is gracing-"

"-us-"

"-with his-"

"-magnificent-"

"-magnificent indeed-"

"-presence."

Harry rolled his eyes, feeling a fond smile make its way onto his face. "Oh knock it off, you two."

Fred sidled up to him on one side, resting his arm around his shoulder, while George sidled up to the other side, also resting his arm on his shoulder. The height difference between him and the twins was made even more evident.

Harry made a sort of huffing sound. "Come on now. You two are heavy."

The twins didn't move from their spot. Harry glared up at them.

"So, what brings you here?"

"Can't it just be for a walk down memory lane?" Harry retorted, attempting to shake their arms off to no avail.

"We know you, Harry. There's no way you would climb all the way up here on that ladder for no reason. You hate climbing that thing."

"You were watching me?"

"Yes," they said at the same time.

Harry groaned. "How could you just watch your benefactor suffer like that?"

They just gave him two shit-eating grins.

Harry sighed. "You can make it up to me by lending me your workshop for an hour or so."

"A new project?"

"What is it?"

Harry glanced around. "I'll tell you in the workshop."

The two gave him a knowing look. Even though Harry knew that the Weasley twin's shop was one of the safest places to be, he still couldn't help his paranoia.

"Alright. Follow us."

"We've added something new in there that I'm sure you'll love."

Stepping into the workshop, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Tada!" the twins said, their arms outstretched, presenting the thing before them.

Harry couldn't take his eyes off of it. "How?" he croaked, his voice small and soft and on the verge of shattering.

"Well," Fred started.

"We just so happened to have been visiting Grimmauld Place-"

"The Order was trying to recruit us again-"

"When we stumbled across this."

"We couldn't just leave it there, you see-"

"Especially when it means so much to our benefactor-"

"So we decided to. . . borrow it."

"Indefinitely."

Harry could feel tears start to drip down his chin. He threw himself at the twins, hugging them tightly to his body. "Thank you thank you thank you," he repeated over and over again like a mantra.

He didn't think he would see Siri's bike ever again. Not after Dumbledore and the Order had seized Grimmauld Place for their own use.

Not having anything of Siri's to remember him by hurt.

"Bah-bu-" Harry cleared his throat, releasing his grip on the twins, "but why wasn't it destroyed?" he asked, walking up to the bike and caressing it almost reverently. He slid into the seat where Siri used to sit, leaning over and hugging the bike.

The twins shared a glance with each other.

"We've been meaning to discuss this with you. There's. . . there's no kind way of explaining this."

"So we decided that we should just tell it to you straight. You're not going to like it, though."

"Dumbledore and his Order haven't destroyed all robots and and machines from the war."

"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked, unsure how he should feel about what they just revealed to him.

"What I mean is that Dumbledore has kept some robots and machines for his own use. For example, you remember Fawkes, right?"

Harry's mind drifting back to memories of a glorious bird made out of red and gold metals. The bird who saved his life in his second year.

"I wouldn't be able to forget about him," he said, letting a fond smile appear on his face.

"Well, Fawkes wasn't destroyed. And neither was a lot of the robots and machines that were in Hogwarts."

"It's apparently a rather open secret within Dumbledore's followers. Apparently they believe they believe themselves above the very rules they enforce," Fred said bitterly.

"That's no surprise," Harry said, feeling oddly distant from what he was learning. "They never were ones for honour and righteousness, even in my school days. Especially in my school days."

"It's. . .it's also the reason so many dark makers have been lured out of hiding. There have been. . . whispers among the dark makers that Dumbledore will offer safety to any dark makers who join their side. That he himself has said so."

"However. . ."

"Dumbledore had no intention of offering them amnesty," Harry finished, feeling raw fury boiling underneath his skin. Just when I thought he couldn't become any more of a disgusting example of a human being, he thought to himself, a sneer working its way onto his face.

"They should know better than to trust Dumbledore's word! So why?"

"Sometimes you just don't want to live in fear anymore. A chance for a peaceful life, without being hunted or scorned for your beliefs, is often too tempting to pass up, even if it might lead to your death. . ."

". . .Why are you telling me this? It's not like I could do anything about this," Harry asked.

The two shared another look. "We just thought you deserved to know."

"We know how upset you were over the destruction of so many machines. We thought you might like to know that all that knowledge wasn't lost, even if it's in the enemies hands."

Harry stared hard at the twins, knowing they were withholding something. But he decided to let them off this one time, considering what they did for him.

"Ever heard of a clonker?" he asked, completely changing the subject. He did not want to dwell anymore on memories of the war.

The twins stared at him, confusion in their faces. They shook their heads.

"I'm sure you'll like this. And find ways to incorporate this into one of your prank devices."

He proceeded to explain the inner workings of the golden snitch, and the peculiar device known as the micro spatialiser. His eyes were alight with joy as he explained how a snitch worked, and while the twins were not nearly as interested in the subject as Harry was, his joy was rather infectious.

"So," he said when he was finished explaining. "Isn't it amazing?"

"Very," the twins said. It had been a long time since they saw Harry so passionate about something.

"But where did you get this information?"

Harry hesitated at this. "Well, about that. . ."

"You don't have to worry about bothering us."

"We can already tell by your hesitation that you learnt it from a robot."

"While we will never be comfortable around robots ever again, we know you practically live for robots."

"We wouldn't be surprised if you ended up marrying one. I call best man if you do!"

"Hey, no fair! I want to be best man!"

"Please," Harry said. "If anyone will be best man for my wedding, it'll be Draco. He wouldn't even give you two a chance."

". . .We can't deny that one. The princess would throw a hissy fit otherwise."

"Don't let Draco hear you calling him that."

"I'm sure the princess wouldn't mind."

"But anyway, let's get that clonker of yours made. All your tools are right where you last left them."

"Right. What I came here for."

An hour and a half later, Harry was leaving the Weasley twins shop, a conker in his pocket and a motorcycle in tow. And with a mind full of troubles as well.

Arriving back home, Harry winced when he looked at the time. He was back three hours later than what he had told Tom. Setting Siri's bike inside the kitchen, afraid that it would be taken if left outside, he made his way into the workshop.

The room was dark, and everything was quiet. Flipping on the light switch, Harry was met with Tom's unamused stare.

"Um," Harry said intelligently, mentally hitting himself on the head.

"Let me guess? 'I can explain,'" he practically drawled.

Harry sent him a guilty look. He definitely hit that nail right on the head, he thought.

Tom sighed. "Well, let's get on with it. You have the piece, right?"

"Yeah. I have it." He pulled the clonker out of his pocket.

Seating himself at his usual spot, he began to assemble the micro spatialiser.

"So," Tom began, startling Harry, "what was so interesting that it took you three hours longer to return?"

"The twins - the owners of the shop - had a surprise for me, as well as some information to relay. I suppose I also got sidetracked talking with them. It's been a while since I actually saw them in person. . ."

"Is that so? What did they surprise you with?"

Harry couldn't help but smile again when he thought about Siri's bike. "They returned something very important to me. My godfather-" he felt his throat choke up a bit, "my godfather Sirius died when I was 15, and I had nothing left of his. But the twins, they managed to retrieve his motorcycle for me."

"How nice of them."

"Okay, I've assembled the micro spatialiser." He held it up in front of Tom.

"Good. Not put it where I had indicated."

Picking up the snitch, he was surprised to see that the wings had been straightened and repaired.

He looked at Tom. "You. . ."

"I had to keep myself occupied somehow while you were busy chatting away with your twins."

"Thank you."

"Just assemble the snitch already."

He smiled at him before slotting the device inside. Holding up the snitch, he determined that the snitch was ready for testing. Activating it, he let go of it.

He watched it fly around once more at its fast speed. All looked good so far. Seeing how it had yet to crash, Harry reached out his hand to catch it. The snitch instantly darted away.

"It worked!" he exclaimed, smiling from his mouth to his eyes.

"Of course it worked," Tom said, offended at how surprised he sounded.

This is one of the happiest days of my life, he thought to himself.

"By the way," Tom said after letting Harry celebrate for a few minutes. Harry looked at him.

"You're hair's pink."

1. Fag=Cigarette.